Avatar: The Legacy of Steel - Chapter 1 - Flowers In The Fall
by AHKyle
Summary: Jin Hua Bei Fong struggles to fit in in school. He is bullied, his twin sister thinks he's a weakling and worst of all, she might be right. Born into a lesser known branch of the sprawling and prominent Bei Fong family, Jin cannot bend a single element, and has difficulty trusting others. A gift of heirloom armor awakens a fearsome power within him - can he survive it?


I.

Flowers in the Fall

Being a part of a famous bending family leaves much to be desired. No matter how impressive you or your sister might be, no matter how loving your mother and father are, your life in the face of all of the rest of your family's amazing accomplishments can't help but feel small, insignificant, like a mote of dust resting on a badgermole's nose.

I've been told stories about the rest of the Bei Fong clan, the sprawling steel grip they have on the realms of politics, technology, art. Everyone knows about Toph and her children, how they guided Avatar Aang and Avatar Korra through their journey to save the world from some calamity or another. Especially now that there's an HM2 in every home, it's hard for the famous to be anything other than household names. So it feels strangely relieving to know that no one knows who you are, even though your cousins are sports stars and your uncle might soon be president of the United Republic. It's a relief, and also a reminder.

Everyone the world sees and knows of your family inspires awe. You, twelve year old Jin Hua Bei Fong, must not do anything to compromise that legacy.

I imagine my ancestors watching over me today, wondering with interest if I'll ever find myself as a bender. I imagine them calling out to me, hoping I'll turn around and see the boys behind—

"Hey flower boy!" A powerful adolescent voice shakes me out of my daydream, followed soon after by a brusquely applied arm to the back of my neck. I scream out without thinking. I fall to the ground to get myself free of my classmate's touch.

"What, he's so delicate, one touch and his petals wither!" Another boy, whose voice is familiar but whose tone seems uniquely sinister, perhaps affected. He laughs and then the other boy grabs me by the collar of my shirt and brings me back to my feet.

"Let go of me!" I cry out. This isn't a new experience for me. Like I said, being a part of a famous bending family is less fun than you think, especially when you're like me.

Especially when you can't bend any element whatsoever.

"You're so touchy, Jin. All we wanted to do was say "Hi.""

"You really need to loosen up. You're so tense. Maybe a massage…?"

"Great idea, Chin!"

_No!_ These boys aren't the only ones who like to harass me, but it's gotten worse since everyone started going through puberty. Everyone knew I didn't like to be touched, but I've noticed as the benders in my peer group have gotten older, the feelings of non-bending kids have mattered less and less to them. Especially non-bending kids from famous earthbending families.

I swatted them away and made a run for it. The school yard had a lot of open space, a lot of clearly visible ground where someone, anyone, could see me, maybe even—

"Hey!" Someone had come to save me. "Leave my brother alone!"

A hunk of earth tore out of the ground and flung toward Chin, who caught it in his stomach and fell to the ground, heaving. The other boys fled, smaller bits of earth chasing after them like bees. My sister, Jingcha, had inherited my family's bending prowess. I watch her walk over to me, her face stern, a little exasperated.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Her voice betrayed her look of detachment. Jingcha was known by all the boys around as a tough girl, someone who could break you over a stone pillar without hesitation. To me, she was just my twin sister. My twin sister who wished she had someone to spar with, who wished her brother wasn't such a toothless turtleduck all the time. I wondered, often, what I was to her. But now, I felt like I could see some shred of familial love in her eyes, hear the faint sound of empathetic hurt.

"I'm okay," I told her. "I'm used to it."

"See, that's your problem, Jin," she said, as she always said. Whether she was telling me my stance was wrong or that I didn't speak up enough or any of my other inadequacies, Jingcha never hesitated to offer her critique. "You shouldn't be used to getting your butt kicked. And you shouldn't be so used to your sister coming to your rescue, either."

"So you saving me is my fault?"

"You giving me a reason to have to save you is—Never mind. Lunch is almost over. We've got to get back to class."

She was right. The school bell atop the clocktower was sounding its gong, signaling the end of lunch. Soon we would all be back in our desks, learning about the different provinces of the United Republic, memorizing and mentally cataloguing the various facts and figures we'd need to become functional and educated members of society, or something like that.

And soon after that, I would be back home, safer than most moments I spent at school, but feeling a little less alone.

But first, on my way up the stairs of my school building, I hear the voice of a friend.

"Jin, wait up!" I stop mid-step and turn to see Iluq, probably my closest friend, hustling up the stairs to meet me. "What happened today? We were supposed to meet up by the old oak tree."

I start to come up with an excuse, but Iluq sees it coming. "I was just—"

"You didn't get harassed again, did you?"

I wanted to lie, push it down, say nothing, but like my sister, Iluq had a way of getting things out of me. Instead, I bought myself some time. "We've got to get to class."

As we hustled up the stairs, edging past and between our fellow classmates, I wondered when Iluq would bring the subject back up, of my accidental flakiness this past lunch period. I wondered how I would explain how I had managed to get through it unharmed, but couldn't fight my way through without my sister's help.

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not mad at you."

"I know," I said.

"I just… I wish you would let me help you."

I stopped short of our classroom door. I looked at Iluq's compassionate blue eyes, his slanted frown. I didn't want to resent his offer to help, but for a fleeting moment, I did.

"Next time," I said, not sure if I was lying, not sure if I was putting on a kind face to avoid feeling anger.

The class bell rang, and we both hustled into our classroom before the teacher closed the door behind us. Another day of school was nearing its close. Another day, another reminder…

I found my mother tending to the garden outside our house. Even though we live in a fairly urban part of the Republic, our neighborhood has enough open space for houses to have yards and gardens like ours. My mother has been really into gardening ever since she was a child living on Kyoshi, but she told me she went years without planting a single flower.

"Hey mom," I said, not wanting to startle her, but doing so anyway.

"Oh, back from school already, Jin?"

"Yeah," I said, careful not to let on how I was feeling. "The day went by pretty fast."

"Was it a good day?"

"It was… okay." I blew it. She could always tell from how I spoke what my true feelings were.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I almost wanted to cry. I was frozen by her question, and she knew it. "Come sit with me in the den. I'll make us some tea." She picked some fresh jasmine from the garden. Summer was almost over, and I knew she wouldn't be able to use the fresh jasmine to make good tea, but I had a feeling she had plenty of prepared jasmine waiting for us inside. I agreed with a solemn nod.

"Okay," I muttered.

"Okay," said my mother, setting the teacup down in front of me. "What's got you all caught at the throat?"

My mother wasn't a bender, but she must have been a waterbender in another life, because whenever she placed a cup of tea in front of me and asked me how I was feeling, it was like she opened the floodgates of my heart.

"I just can't… I just can't seem to," stop crying, find the words to explain how terrible the world made me feel inside, any number of things. "I want to be… a stronger person, than I am."

"Jin Hua," my mother's heart called out as she pronounced my name. It said, your strength is the strength of a lionturtle, as she was wont to say, when I got in these kinds of moods.

I managed to tamp the flow of tears for a moment. "I know," I said. "I'm a strong person. But the world makes me feel weak." Jingcha hurling a rock at Chin's stomach flashed across my mind. "I'm not an A student. I'm not an athlete. I'm just…"

"You're a precious sort of person, Jin. Do you know why I named you,"  
"You found out you were pregnant for me when you saw that flower, right?"

"The color of gold. Shimmering in bloom. I had a premonition that night, or maybe it was just a dream." A part of the story I hadn't heard teased my heart. I wanted to wallow in self pity, but when my mom got talking, it was impossible for me for me to be snide and interrupt her. "I had a dream that I would have two children, two unbreakable, wonderful Bei Fong children. I had no idea that I would come to raise and know the two of you. You and your sister are everything to me, not because you are athletes, or artists, or straight A students, but because you never lose your luster, even when the world kicks you into the dirt."

Just then, Jingcha came through the doorway into the kitchen. Evidently, she had been listening. My mother's smile seemed to quiver for a moment.

"Good afternoon, Jingcha," she said.

Jingcha opened the icebox and pulled out a bottle of Lychee nut juice.

"Hello, mother." She saw my expression, my damp cheeks, and turned away to get a glass from the cupboard. "Did Jin tell you what happened today?"

"He was beginning to, yes. I'll let him tell the tale."

"Fine. Don't let him forget to mention who bailed him out," she said, pouring the lychee nut juice into her glass. A moment later, she had downed it.

My mother wanted to say something, but she restrained herself.

"Thank you, again," I managed to mutter. "Sorry," crept out of my mouth at the last moment.

"Gee, now you thank me."

My mother started to protest my sister's sarcasm, but mostly she felt preoccupied with the subtext of the conversation. She looked back at me, her loving eyes looking lost and confused. And then, after a moment, certain and sad.

"Those boys tried to hurt you again, didn't they?"

I nodded. I was used to this conversation, the directions it took, the beats it inevitably rattled through. And as weary as my mother should have been of telling me, she nonetheless started in on the old routine. "Why are boys so cruel?"

"Because it seems to be the only way they know how to grow up faster," my sister said, which was a novel addition to the script. So much so that it threw my mother off track. She came to a halt in her thinking. And then, she said,

"I think it's time to give you the tools to teach them a lesson."

Jingcha, who was about to leave the room, turned back to face us. "What are you saying?"

"I think you need to learn, as I learned, how to pacify and protect."

There was a chest in the closet of my parents' room that Jingcha and I had found one day when we were little. We came up with stories about what we thought would be inside it, but it took until just recently for either of us to learn the truth. When my mother brought us to her room, and left us standing as she dug past dad's clothes and old shoes, it occurred to us, or to me anyway, that we had never outright asked Mom or Dad about what really was in the box. Our curiosity was overridden by imagination, and the question never made it to the surface.

"You two know about this chest, don't you?" my mother said, her voice partly muffled by the enclosure of her closet. "I've had it since you were little. When we moved to the city, I decided there was a part of me that I needed to retire. I suppose I was foolish…"

When my mother emerged, she had a neatly rolled, but substantially large bundle of clothing in her arms. "Your past has a way of sticking around, and it usually does so for a reason."

She laid the bundle down on the floor and unfurled it in front of us, slowly, carefully. A fold was untucked here, a corner laid down there, and when she was through, what we saw made both our jaws drop.

"That's… Is that _your_ armor, Mom?"

The armor of a Kyoshi warrior, protected from the sun's bleaching rays, laid out before us. It seemed like a relic, something that had come out of a museum, or that had been flung through time toward us.

"This armor belonged to your grandmother, and your great-grandmother before her. Women in my family, including myself, all served the island of Kyoshi as members of the Kyoshi Warriors. We defended the homeland of the great Avatar Kyoshi against those who would threaten peace, and under the guidance of great leaders as Ty Lee and Suki, and those who learned under their training, we learned the methods we would need to defend against threats more powerful than ourselves."

I looked to Jingcha, who seemed to be lost in thought.

My mother lifted the armor from its resting place and began to unclasp its various pieces, separating it into the plating, the cloth, the head-dress, the gloves. Each aspect of the armor seemed to be its own entity, and soon, one of us would be wearing it. I never expected that it would be me.

"Jin," my mother said. "Each part of the body is connected in a variety of ways. The most important connections are the connections we cannot see: the spiritual connections. We can impact those connections within the spirit by using precise blows to those parts of the physical self that control and moderate our spiritual flow. That flow is what enables our bodies to bend the elements, if we are so gifted."

My sister smiled, but her smile went away when she saw that I was looking at her.

"I've never faulted you for your inability to bend, Jin, and I have no reason to. But if you are ever to find the keys to your own release, you must understand your body, and your spirit. You must be able to see the unseen within."

"So what do you want me to do?" Jingcha asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"Jingcha, you know much about how to use your body to bend the elements, and I am so proud of the bender you have become already. But your brother has a task before him."

"And what task is that?" I asked.

"I want you to put this armor on. To do that, you must understand the connections between each piece, each aspect of the armor itself."

I didn't see what doing what my mother told me to do would accomplish then, and I still have my doubts, but I nodded. Jingcha sighed and turned to leave the room. My mother stopped her. "You and I can wait outside for Jin to complete his task."

With that, my mother and sister left me alone in the bedroom, with the disassembled suit of armor, and my thoughts.

I had watched my mother carefully, as she unclasped each piece and set them aside. I started with the pants and skirt. I knew I would get my boots on last. Every piece felt heavy, substantial in my grip. I wondered how the Kyoshi Warriors, how my own mother, managed to wear this armor every day, even and especially as they fought. I pulled my hands through the leather platemail shirt and reached for the gloves. As my hands slid into the warm, insulated gloves, my heartbeat began to quicken. I wasn't sure what I was feeling. Was I hot, was I frightened? Or was this something more than a feeling? I took the gloves off quickly and knocked on the door to get my mother's attention.

"Mom," I said. "Something doesn't feel right?"

The door opened and my mother appeared in the doorway.

"Your leggings aren't tucked into your boots, that's what's wrong."

"No, it's not my boots… The gloves—I don't think…"

We looked over to the discarded gloves, each of us seeing something different.

My mother picked up the gloves and inspected their insides, first with her eyes and then with her own hands. They had been fitted for her, so it made sense that they wouldn't feel exactly right for me—but nothing ever felt exactly right for me. It rarely made me feel as uncomfortable as those enveloping garments did. It felt like as I reached my hands inside them, something else was reaching its hands inside of me.

"There's nothing inside them that I can feel, Jin. But putting on armor for the first time can always feel disorienting. The important thing to know is that this is not a costume. This is your heritage, something passed down to you by generations of my family."

"Maybe Jin can't wear it because it's for a girl," Jingcha interjected. "Kyoshi Warriors are all women, right? Maybe it's because he,"

"I can wear it," I said, suddenly feeling courageous. Jingcha shot me a look.

"Kyoshi Warriors have traditionally been women, yes, but being a woman is not the necessary thing. It is only necessary to have a heart tempered for service, a heart prepared to protect those in need and disarm those who would seek to do harm."

It comforted me to know that no matter who I was, the Kyoshi Warriors could count me among them—but the condition my mother mentioned, the one that seemed to require courage and valor, gave me pause. As I was, could I really be worthy to wear the armor and bear the name of Kyoshi Warrior?

For that matter, could I truly be considered someone worthy of the Bei Fong legacy?

I knew I wasn't _really_ being inducted into the Kyoshi Warriors, but I could appreciate the gravity of my mother sharing this part of herself, of _our_ heritage, with me.

"Mom," I said. "I can wear it. I'm ready."

My mother's expression, always warm, always a force of calm, became sober, almost serious. "I know you are, Jin. But I want you to be certain of one thing before I help you put this on. There is nothing to be afraid of here. Whatever you feel when you put the armor on, it is not something to fear. It is something to embrace, and to accept."

All I could do was nod. It was as if my mother knew what was going to happen before it happened, and she wanted me to be ready for it. I believed in her words, but I could not foresee what gave her words grounds for such gravity.

One foot in, and then another. The cloth and leather cuirass, the plating across my torso, felt mildly suffocating, but otherwise fine. It was putting on the gloves that filled me with dread. Once they were on, there was no escape, there was no turning back. But what was it that I wanted to escape from, I could not articulate.

"So far so good?" my mother asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. Even through the armor, I could feel her, but there was something different about the sensation. Normally I would have pulled away, even from her, but whatever the reason, I didn't feel the urge.

"So far so good," I said, but my eyes were on the gloves, my mind on the feeling of being reached into. And then…

The world went white.

When I came to, I was in my bed. It was night or early morning. Something had stolen away my memory of what had happened between putting the gloves on and now, and I didn't imagine it was anything good. No one was waiting by my bedside, so they couldn't have been too concerned, but I was concerned more than my share.

"Mom?" I said, and was immediately conscious of a hoarse feeling in my throat. Like I had been yelling… like I had been screaming.

"…who should we call?"

"This isn't a medical issue, honey."

Dad's voice. Dad was home and he was concerned. He was concerned about me.

"Well we're going to have to fix the roof, at least. But this is serious—Jin,"

"Dad," I said, walking into the den. "What's going on?"

My parents turned to look at me, their eyes communicating the usual love, now tempered by fear. "Jin Hua," my name fell out of my mother's mouth and she rushed to me, stopping just short of hugging me. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"What happened? Did I do something? I heard Dad say something about the roof,"

"Yes, well," my father wasn't sure what to say. "You did a number on it, son."

How? What had I done?

I rushed to the room where I had tried on my mother's armor and found the door ajar, almost dangling off its hinges, as if blown open by a strong gust of wind. The room was bathed in moonlight, dust drifting through the columns of light falling through the skylight that I could have sworn we didn't have before. I walked in, stepping carefully, wary of the debris on the floor. A wave of confusion came over me, followed by a creeping sense of guilt. What Dad had said—I was the one who did this. I had blown a hole in the ceiling, with what appeared to be a jet of flame, judging from the remaining ceiling's ashen appearance. Questions filled my mind as tears came to my eyes.

"I didn't… I don't understand,"

"Jin Hua," my mother's voice came into the room, softly. "It's alright. We'll fix this."

"Did I really do this, mom?"

"When you put on the last glove, your eyes immediately began to glow. We believe," she hesitated. "We believe that you might be the Avatar."

"The Avatar?" I didn't need anyone to explain to me what that meant, but I couldn't fathom it being true. Me, the one who could never bend. Me, the Bei Fong who couldn't even bend a measly rock.

Suddenly, it was possible that, on the very level I had always felt ashamed and inferior, I could stand to become a true master. But it still didn't change the fact that I couldn't—I had never bent the elements before. So why now? What was it about the armor that—

"If Jin's the Avatar, we're all doomed." There could be no doubt who had said that. Jingcha stood at the doorway, her mouth firmly shaped into a frown.

"Jingcha," my father said. "That's no way to talk about,"

"Jin is fearful, and weak, and he depends on everyone. He can't even bend on his own. If anyone should be the Avatar, it's,"

"Jingcha, enough." My mother was standing and staring hard at my sister, which was usually enough to make her storm out of the room. This time, Jingcha stood her ground.

"It's not fair," she said. "Jin always gets everything, I don't get it!"

"You don't get what?"

Jingcha was strong with her fists, but her words often faltered, especially when she was angry. It was hard for her to keep herself calm; she was like boiling magma inside and she wanted to erupt. Tears came to her eyes and she ran out of the room.

"Go after her," my mother said. "She needs you, she won't listen to me."

My father understood what she meant immediately. He followed after my sister without a beat of hesitation. My father was a talented craftsman. The attention to detail in his earthbending made him a brilliant mind for construction, and architecture. He wasn't a fighter by nature, but he enjoyed the usual sports. He had his share of pro bending heroes, and he shared them with Jingcha. That was the language they both understood. As for me…

"Jin," my mother said. "We need to contact the White Lotus. You won't be safe going back to school—not until you can control your Avatar spirit."

"But!" I panicked. I didn't love school, or anything like that. I was sure I wouldn't miss it. But Iluq, he would be lonely without me and I—I didn't want to think about losing him. I didn't want to think about all the pain and confusion I had caused, that I was causing at this very moment. I just wanted—

"Please, Jin, I only want you to be safe. You need to learn from other benders, teachers who can protect you and guide you in becoming the Avatar you are destined to become,"

"I don't want to be a bender, I—I don't know how,"

"You will, my flower," my mother embraced me then. "One day, you will be powerful beyond measure."

_A vision—an old woman, long gray hair, cool blue eyes. On the ground before her, a broken machine, shaped like a person. Small, shattered, but twitching with life. I see these two figures through a veil of fog. I see them, and I know that the woman is talking, muttering something under her breath. I can only truly make out a few words being said._

"…_What have you done, Varrick?"_

"Jin!"

I am startled awake, the sun is out, I am still in the den but—something is wrong. Cabinet doors have been blown open and some clean off their hinges, as if whipped by the raging of a sudden storm. I immediately start to cry, fearing for the worst: that my mother was harmed by my uncontrollable bending power, that my family had been taken from me. The voice, it was hers, wasn't it?

No, it was someone else.

"I'm so glad you're alright, dear. We're all so glad you're safe."

"I don't know what I did, I don't know—I didn't mean to—"

"It's going to be okay, young Avatar. Because of what you did, it didn't take long for us to get here. Because of your awakening, you have been found."

My eyes finally adjust to the morning sun, and in the wreckage of my kitchen, I see her: Asami Sato, wife of the late Avatar Korra, flanked by members of the White Lotus.


End file.
